


Colorblind

by littlemisslostgirl



Category: Jacksepticeye (Youtube), Markiplier (YouTube)
Genre: AU, Cocky!Mark, Cute, Fluff, M/M, Please read, Romance, Septiplier - Freeform, Soulmateau, Sweet!Jack, m/m - Freeform, no youtube, youtube fandom - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-27
Updated: 2016-08-27
Packaged: 2018-08-11 06:25:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,061
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7879999
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/littlemisslostgirl/pseuds/littlemisslostgirl
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Like everyone else, Jack sees the world in black and white.<br/>That is, until he meets Mark.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Colorblind

Being banished to the storeroom in the back of The Grind—the coffee shop Jack worked at—wasn’t all that bad. Sure, it meant lifting heavy boxes only to empty all of the contents onto the rusting shelves. However, it gave Jack an excuse to daydream in between helping needy customers with their complicated and high-maintenance orders. 

It was easy to daydream when you lived in a black and white world with black and white people and nothing but grey tones dividing the two. Daydreaming about why people only see color when they meet their soul mate, and why this prevents everyone from bothering with any other relationships. What’s the point in marrying anyone when you know it’s not that one person that completes your entire being? These thoughts occupy Jack’s racing mind as he unloads the grey contents of the grey boxes. It’s the one word constantly in the back of his ever-crowded mind:  _ why _ ?

Reaching into the grey cardboard box once more, Jack lifts the final couple of dark grey coffee bean pouches on to the shelf. He brought his hand to his head to wipe off a bead of sweat that was trickling down his forehead from all the heavy-lifting. Jack then bent down to pick up the now-empty box and brought it over to where the rest of them sat waiting to be recycled. Jack then heard the voice of his manager calling to him from the front of the coffee shop. 

“Sean, sweetie, you’re needed out here!” Niamh’s dainty voice calls out.

Jack sighs in resignation. Despite having worked at The Grind for a couple of months already, Niamh had yet to succumb to Jack’s wishes to not call him by his real name. Jack guesses that she doesn’t believe in calling people something other than their birth name. His mother has called him Jack for nearly his entire life and he has grown accustomed to the childhood nickname.

While walking through the dull black and white storeroom towards the front of the coffee shop, Jack is hit with a dizzying migraine that makes him pause in his tracks. Jack rubs his forehead in confusion. He doesn’t get migraines this bad very often, and the last time he did—

_ No. _

Jack stops himself from going down that path.  _ It can’t be that anyways. There’s no way  _ I’d  _ get a second chance.  _ Jack blinks his eyes hard a couple of times—just to check. And, as he expected, the same monotonous colors were staring back at him. Black and white and grey fills his vision. Jack wistfully pushes back the memories of bright red apples and the light blue sky, accepting that they’re nothing more than that—distant memories.

“Sean, get your Irish arse out here! I know for a fact it doesn’t take that long to empty those boxes,” Niamh calls out again. She sounds a little more annoyed and Jack knew he didn’t want to deal with an angry Niamh. She may only be 5’1”, but she is terrifying when she’s peeved. Niamh isn’t one to get angry often, but when she does, it’s better to just sit, take it, and pray for it to end.

Shuddering and brushing the negative thoughts out of his mind, Jack continues walking until he reached the area where the rest of the baristas were rushing around filling various orders. Jack scans the café to see the extensive line of customers waiting patiently on the other side of the counter.

Jack quickly turns to the cashier’s station to grab the next order slip before Niamh yells at him again. He busies himself making a customer’s espresso. Jack focuses on making the drink when the pounding in his head worsened, making Jack practically flinch in pain as he reaches for a lid for the to-go cup. Jack closes his eyes, willing for the pain to go away.

And—just like that—it did.

Jack scrunches up his eyebrows in confusion.  _ What on Earth just happened? _

Cautiously opening his eyes, Jack nearly chokes in shock. He stares at his hand—studying every inch of the fleshy limb. What was once covered in dull grey tones was now decorated in a pale tan color with the occasional dark brown freckle. He looks down at himself to reveal a simple black apron over a pale blue and white jumper.

Jack lets out a soft, breathy laugh as he revels in his colorful surroundings. The coffee beans were a warm brown instead of the same dark grey as Niamh’s cat named Napoleon that tends to wander freely around the café. Napoleon’s fur was still a dark grey color, but it was now noticeable that he had light blue eyes. The entire coffee house was bursting with color Jack had never seen before now. He could see Niamh’s eccentricity everywhere he looked—from the vibrantly colored coffee mugs to the bright, mismatching chairs. It was as if he was looking at the coffee house in a whole new light.

After a moment of grinning at the new colors filling his sight, Jack processes what this meant. As far as he knew, no one had ever gotten a second. He whips around to take in all of the people in the coffee shop. It couldn’t be any of his co-workers—he has already known all of them for a while now. No—it has to be someone he’s never met before today.

Since he’d last scanned the small coffee shop, a group of twenty-somethings had entered and made their way to the front of the line. After handing the completed coffee to the awaiting customer, Jack makes his way over to one of the cashier positions Niamh—who, Jack had now noticed, was a lovely ginger with soft blue eyes—had vacated to (presumably) do paperwork. The group steps up to the counter and to begin ordering. The first to speak captivates Jack’s entire being. He was a beautiful man with bright red hair and gorgeous brown eyes hidden behind a pair of glasses.

The man places his order quickly—an iced caramel macchiato, two sugars—and steps to the side so one of his friends could place their order.

“Uh, sir?” Jack interjects, a blush creeping up his neck. “What name is the order under?”

The man smiles, showing off his perfect pearly-whites.

“It’s Mark.” 


End file.
